


Fountain of Youth

by cyberdva



Series: Fountain of Youth [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crime Scenes, Dean Winchester is Not Heterosexual, Graphic Description, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberdva/pseuds/cyberdva
Summary: Dean Winchester is a private detective that is involved with a case of a stolen diamond ring, not to mention the murder of an innocent woman. He knew something wasn’t right from the start and when his co-worker, Bobby Singer, begins to act oddly it was plaintively obvious he needed help. This wasn’t a normal crime, it was something supernatural. He contacts his brother Sam and sets off into his secret, second life.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Fountain of Youth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059542
Kudos: 1





	Fountain of Youth

**Author's Note:**

> Edited version of a small work I did for school, should I continue it and add some more characters, romance, and such? Let me know! I'd be happy to do so!

The junky composite drawing laid on the detective’s messy desk. He has been there for hours upon hours trying to connect the puzzle pieces of the crime. Private eye. Dean Winchester, had nothing, no set in stone suspect, barely any eyewitnesses, and the murder weapon gave no insight to tie the murder to their crime. It felt like a massive dead end, no matter what door he opened or which way he turned. His frazzled mind even resorted to any method, no matter how absurd or old-fashioned, to try and connect at least one stray line of evidence, which ended in knots of red yarn to be strung from a makeshift posterboard to the metal door handle parallel to the cursed remainings of the crime. Dean sat at his office desk, hands in his head, attempting to string any leads to a whole. 

“You’re still here, son? Dean lifted his gaze off of the painted, menacing scowl. His friend Bobby was at the door, that man was like a father to him. He really cared about Bobby, even though they fought like tigers most of the time. Bobby's eyes glanced around the newfound mess floating around the room. 

“I need to find some sort of new testimony, there are just constant dead ends."A forced chuckle erupted from his throat to clear the elephant in the room, not to mention the dry conversation playing out. Bobby gave a nod in agreement, he too had been constantly working around the clock to locate the sick son of a bitch hacking up innocent people, he took it personally with incidences in the past. 

“I just don’t understand why these idgits are so amped up about one ring, doesn’t the family need some kind of closure? Poor woman, I bet she didn’t see herself being put through the wringer like that.” Bobby smiled, “Look at me now, I’m making puns.” He beamed. Dean cocked his head skeptically at the older man, was this a time for jokes? he knew Bobby was lighthearted, but recently something just had to be off. He couldn't put a finger on it, just like the stalemate case. His head had already formed a sickening migraine, pulsing every once and awhile. The small jar of Advil kept in his top drawer couldn't fight it off any longer.

“It was a diamond ring, you don’t see that every day. To be honest, you don't find a mass murder every day too, but here we are.” Dean had given up for the night and began to stuff various papers into his briefcase, making sure to leave all the important items surrounding the mysterious killer in his office. There was no point to agitate himself with it when he should be resting. His leg extended over the leftover materials. If he tripped and made a fool out of himself in front of his higher up would mean a lot of booze and some reoccurring replays in his already clogged mind. 

The older man chuckled, “When you’re in this workforce you’ve seen a lot of things Dean.” He took a sip of his coffee, which was odd especially considering the time, it was nearing close to 10 o'clock and the layers of low fog outside meant business. Not to mention Bobby’s disregard for the key problem, this is a rare diamond ring we’re talking about and a murderer, which continuously slipped his mind. Maybe thinking of the bigger picture could help to figure this all out. 

“Singer, I need to see you in my office, we have new updates about an accomplice.” A sleek woman leaned into the doorway with a small file in her hands, most likely new updates, possibly from the police or a witness. Her face drooped lower than it normally was, at least Dean wasn't the only one slaving away over this.

“One second Mills, I’m having a conversation with Winchester 1.0.” Bobby came off as extremely passive-aggressive, which left his boss in confusion. He normally was much more chirpy. The sheriff raised an eyebrow at the younger one as if to question "What's up with him?'" A shoulder shrug in reply, not even registering the odd new nickname given to him. 

“I haven’t been to the secondary crime scene yet, maybe you’ll find something, connect it to the motive. Ya know?” Oddly specific.

“Yeah…. Thanks, Bobby. See you later.” His words were spaced in utter confusion. Maybe he was right there was nothing world-altering while looking at the morgue. The autopsy had all the common things expected. Nothing bold, just normal.

The man walked out of his agency and got some papers from his secretary. Dean flashed her a wink and his signature smile before stumbling out to his car. It wasn’t too far from his little apartment made out of a makeshift hotel room. The stars provided no light and dense mist engulfed the streets. Loud music blared in the old Impala, Dean pulled out a small device, flipping it open, and dialed his dear old brother Sammy's number. Before he knew it, there he was. There was an alley in which the suspect had been caught, the person jumped the fence leaving shards of glass all over the perimeter. Blood was smeared on every corner, leaving the victim in a crumpled bundle on the earthy floor. To make it even better, her arms were sheared right off by the bone, the legs were left with gashes half-way cut, as if the assaulter was rushing, about to be caught. The investigator looked around for a bit until something caught his eye. Through the dried up mounds of vital fluids and minuscule flesh chunks laid a blue fountain pen. 

Dean grabbed a pen, there was familiar writing engraved onto the top. The script read “Private Investigator Singer” in bright bold letters. The man couldn’t believe his eyes. His voice was caught in his throat, the utensil dropped from his calloused fingers, his prints were not defined on the quill.

"It can’t be…. This has to be planted.” Dean had only seen these pens in Bobby’s office, someone must’ve planted it, but then again his “friend” knew everything about the crime before anyone else. They had all thought he was just a wiz at connecting the dots

The man ripped out his telephone yet again and dialed a number ferociously, “Sammy somethings going on here, and think Bobby’s going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“I’m on my way.”


End file.
